Chipped Memories
by UniqueAsterisk
Summary: A simple gift that had a complicated past. A past full of meaning and memories. A past that might help her remember. That was all he could give to her. A one-shot set after The Outsider.


**Author Notes: This is the first Once Upon a Time fanfiction that I've written, so I hope it turned out well. It's set after "The Outsider." I'd love to get some feed back on this story. I hope you enjoy, and please review. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time. It belongs to ABC, as well as Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz.**

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**Chipped Memories**

Mr. Gold walked slowly into the quiet hospital ward. Belle had been there for a few days, recovering. At least that's what they said, that the gunshot wound was healing, that she'd be fine. But she still didn't remember. She didn't remember the town, or Ruby, or the library. She didn't remember_ him_.

He sighed softly at the thought as he walked to her bedside, supporting his tired body with his cane.

She slept soundly. Her brown hair cascading down one side of her pillow. Her dark eyelashes fluttered slightly against her pale skin. She looked exactly the same as she always had. So peaceful, so beautiful.

On the first night she'd spent in the hospital, he'd tried to save her with True Love's Kiss. She's looked calm and perfect then, too. He'd just wanted to bring her back, to help her remember. But magic worked differently in Storybrooke. It always had. It always would.

When he'd kissed her, she'd woken up. She screamed. She was terrified. And it was heartbreaking to see the women he loved so much be afraid of him. To see her so vulnerable and helpless. He wouldn't have – _couldn't _have – hurt her in a thousand years, but she was still afraid. She had no idea who he was. And that was the problem.

He loved her with his entire heart, but, if she didn't even know who he was, how could it be true love for her? And without true love, a kiss was just a kiss.

So, now that he was standing near her again, he didn't try to break the curse. He knew it wouldn't work. Memory was a tricky thing, and he couldn't risk alienating her. He couldn't lose her, not again; not forever.

Instead, he just watched her sleeping form for a moment. Her slow breathing, the rise and fall of her chest. He missed everything about her. Her smile. Her eyes. Her touch.

He forced himself to look away. He couldn't dwell on missing her; he had something to accomplish.

Her bedside table was almost empty. Nothing but a small lamp that was still on, and a paperback novel. He unwrapped the object that he'd been gripping tightly in his left hand and placed it on the table. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small envelope. He slid it onto the table, with one corner under the gift he'd left for Belle.

Just before walking away, Mr. Gold switched the bedside lamp off. Anything that might make Belle sleep a little easier. He left just as silently as he had arrived. He knew what he had left for her might not help, that she might not understand it, but there was always a chance. A chance that she would remember.

Belle woke the next morning to the sight of something strange and new on her nightstand. Well, new to her.

It was a teacup. White with blue and gold accents. And the design of a blue branch painted on the side.

She looked at it in confusion for a moment.

"Chipped," she whispered to herself, "Who leaves a chipped teacup in a hospital?"

She was just about to pick it up and examine it more closely when she noticed the envelope tucked under the base.

She propped herself into a sitting position on her bed, and reached over for the paper.

The word "Belle" was scrawled across the back of the envelope. That was her name. At least, that was what everyone said her name was.

She opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

It read:

_Dear Belle, _

_ That's your name, sweetheart. Belle. I know you don't remember, but it's the truth. I want to help you in any way I can, but telling you about your old life hasn't seemed to help you remember anything yet. So for now, this gift is all I can come up with. I thought it might help._

_ I know it doesn't seem like much, just an ordinary chipped teacup, but to us – to you and to me – it means a great deal._

_ The first day that you and I spent time together, we had tea. You tried to pour a cup for me, but you accidentally dropped it. When it hit the floor, it chipped. At the time it didn't matter. It was just a cup. But as life went on, and we talked more and spent more time together, I seemed to end up drinking tea from that little chipped cup a lot._

_It seems like a simple story, I know. But to us, it matters a lot. It was the first thing that happened between us. It was the moment that started it all. Everything that came after was based on an accidentally chip in a cup. I've kept it all this time. Because when I thought I'd lost you forever, when I thought you were gone, it became the most valuable thing I owned. And even when we found each other again, it still meant so much to me. _

_ It was just a chip. A little mistake. But it was you. It was your chipped cup. And that made it special. That made it worth saving._

_ I know that this teacup doesn't mean much to you now. It's just a cup again. But it used to mean everything. And hopefully, your memories will come back soon. _

_ Maybe our chipped cup will help you remember. Who you are. Where you came from. What your life has been like. And, Belle, I hope you remember who I am._

_ And that I love you._

_Love Always, _

_Gold _

Belle looked down at the page with a quizzical little smile. Then she noticed that she was gripping the teacup in her left hand. Without even realizing it, she had picked it up while reading the letter.

_Mr. Gold_, she thought, _he _really _loves me._

He was the first thing she'd seen after being shot. He stayed with her the entire ride to the hospital. He called her Belle, and acted so concerned. He was worried. He acted like he couldn't bear to see her in pain, which everyone else she'd spoken to said was completely true.

Then, her first night in the hospital, he kissed her while she slept. Only once, gently, sweetly, as if she were some sort of cursed fairytale princess.

She'd screamed when she'd woken up. She'd been afraid, _terrified_. She didn't know this man. Or at least she didn't remember him. He seemed so hurt by her reaction. He didn't look angry, but merely sad. He had tried to calm her, to apologize. Once she'd fallen into a tense silence, he said quietly, "I'm sorry, Belle. This never should have happened to you."

Then he'd left without another word. He came to the hospital everyday after that, to check on her, to make sure she was healing properly. But he never tried to kiss her again. He would speak to her, try to help her remember her life, like Ruby, Henry, and the others always tried to help. But Mr. Gold never tried to touch her. He never tried to get that close. Although he never said it, she knew the reason he kept his distance. He didn't want her to scream again, he didn't want her to be afraid.

The only reason that she let him come back everyday was because everyone told her that he wouldn't hurt her. That he would _never _hurt her. Emma was apparently the town's sheriff and she seemed to believe Belle was safe in the presence of Mr. Gold, so Belle agreed to let him speak with her.

But she never let him get to close. She never let him touch her.

Even though she'd wondered about it many times, Belle never asked Mr. Gold why he came back every day; why he cared so much; who he was to her. She'd never asked for those answers, even though she craved them desperately.

Asking those questions was like letting him touch her: she was a little too afraid to find out what it felt like.

But now she didn't exactly need to ask.

_Love Always, _he'd written.

The closing said it all. Two words that somehow explained everything. It was love. Pure love. _True _love. That was the only thing that would make a man save a broken teacup, and stay by a girl who didn't even remember him. True love. It was powerful.

She decide something in that moment, looking down at the letter that he'd written by hand just for her and the teacup that she didn't remember chipping. She decided, that the next time Mr. Gold came to see her, she would ask about _their_ past. Not just about the books she used to read or the place she used to go. But instead, about the things they did together. About why and how and when they fell in love.

She set the cup down gently on the nightstand, adjusting it slightly so that the blue branch faced her bed. Carefully, she refolded the letter and placed it next to the teacup. She knew one thing, a man who was kind and sentimental enough to keep something like that – to save her mistake – was a man she could understand loving. All she had to do now was remember.

Gold came later that day. He sat next to her bed, and answered her questions about their relationship.

After she asked him to tell her about _them_, she didn't need to pose any other questions. He told her everything he could without overwhelming her. He let her close her eyes, and lie there in her hospital bed. Taking in his words and imagining the scenes he described.

But the thing they both enjoyed most about the visit was, that the entire time that he was beside her, she held his hand.

It was a simple form of human contact, but it made every memory he spoke of seem even more probable to her, even more real. She had a connection with him. She might not remember the time they'd spent together, but she knew they had a history. She felt like they had a deep-rooted connection, as though he'd been holding her hand across time and space. That they'd been connected since the beginning.

And to him, just holding her hand was enough. It was one step closer to the Belle that he knew. The Belle that he would go to the ends of the earth for. The Belle that loved him. The Belle that would never let go of him as she led him out of the dark.

He knew she was starting to open up to him, to trust him. Letting him hold her hand was the first time she'd willing let him touch her since she lost her memory. She was starting to let him in. It was a small gesture, but small gestures always meant the most between them.

A few loving words, a hand to hold, a gentle smile, a chipped cup.

So, as he told her about their shared past, she held onto his hand and tried to remember.

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**Author Notes: So, what did you think? Don't forget to tell me. Reviews are always very much appreciated. I'd love to hear some feedback. :)**


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